


Champagne

by coffeeandcheesecake



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coffeeshop AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:45:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeandcheesecake/pseuds/coffeeandcheesecake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean likes the coffee at the cafe on Main. He also likes the owner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Champagne

“Are you asking me to come with you to get coffee?” Sam asks incredulously.

He can practically hear Dean scowl through the phone. “Yeah? Why do you sound so shocked?”

Sam is silent for a moment. “Dean, you hate getting coffee.”

“No, I don’t!” Dean says. “I love coffee.”

“Yeah, you love  _your_ coffee, when  _you_ make it,” Sam says. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say you enjoyed a cup of coffee you didn’t brew yourself.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean runs a hand through his hair. “There’s this place on Main. And the coffee’s, you know… tolerable.”

“Ringing endorsement,” Sam says drily. “Tomorrow morning?”

“See you then,” is his brother’s quick reply, and then he’s gone. Sam rolls his eyes.

——

It only takes a couple seconds once he and Dean walk into the cafe (quaintly named “Heaven’s Brew”) for Sam to realize that it isn’t just the coffee that makes Dean so fond of this place.

It’s the ruffled dark hair and blue, blue eyes of the man at the register.

“Hello, Dean,” the man greets his brother with a familiarity and sincerity that takes Sam by surprise. Dean doesn’t have many acquaintances outside of their family, and this man is gazing at him with a fondness that speaks to actual affection, not just politeness.

“Hiya, Cas,” Dean smiles broadly. “Sam, this is Castiel, one of the owners. Cas, this is my brother that I told you about.”

“Sam,” Castiel says, his blue eyes sincere. “I’ve heard so much about you. You’re a lawyer, right?”

“Not quite yet,” Sam laughs, shaking Castiel’s outstretched hand. “But soon, hopefully. It’s nice to meet you.”

Castiel nods in agreement, then winces as a voice from the back crows, “Cas! Is that your boyfriend I hear?”

Dean rolls his eyes so hard Sam is surprised they don’t pop out of his head.

“I apologize in advance for anything he says or does that’s inappropriate,” Castiel says quickly, like some kind of disclaimer, and then he is pounced upon by a shorter man with sharp eyes, which quickly run up and down Sam’s body.

“Oh boy, Dean-o,” he says. “Where’ve you been hiding the more attractive brother? I know Cas here may be completely entranced by your pretty eyelashes, but tall dark and handsome needs to come around more often.”

“Shut up, Gabe,” Dean mutters while Castiel’s face flushes visibly.

“Just the usual, Dean?” he murmurs, eyes fixed on the register.

“Yeah, thanks, Cas,” Dean says, a smile growing on his face now that Castiel’s attention is fixed on him again. “Make that two. And what kind of muffins do you guys have today?”

“Chocolate chip,” Castiel says.

“Sweet,” Dean grins, and Sam knows that’s his flirty smile, but Castiel isn’t looking. “Two of those, too, while you’re at it.”

Castiel makes their drinks quickly and efficiently and bags the muffins for Dean. He’s still avoiding both their eyes when he hands them the cups and the bag. Dean takes a sip of his and toasts Castiel with a grin.

“Delicious as always, Cas,” he says.

Castiel eyes meet Dean’s for a split second, and then he says with grave sincerity, “You have foam on your upper lip.”

Dean wipes his face, looking mortified, Gabe cackles from behind the counter, and Sam smiles faintly. Yeah. Sure. Dean comes in here for the coffee.

——

Dean needs to just get the fuck over himself and ask Castiel out already. Gabe may be a lot of things, but he doesn’t appear to be a liar, and he’s constantly dropping hints left and right about how into him Castiel is.

So he should just do it. Right now.

“Um,” Dean says as Castiel hands him his cup.

“Did you need something else?” Cas asks him, blue eyes wide and helpful.

“No,” Dean stammers. “I’m just— gonna sit. Over… there.”

He mopes in one of the armchairs for the better part of an hour, trying to pluck up the courage to just get up, go up to the counter, and say, “Will you go on a date with me?”

Dean doesn’t know why it’s so difficult. He’s asked out people before. Lots of people;  _loads_ , even. Women and men alike. He’s never gotten this nervous before.

Problem is: Castiel is fucking great. For a dude working in a coffee shop, he’s brilliant (and he has to be, Dean guesses; Gabriel has inhuman powers when it comes to making coffee and baked goods, so that means Castiel has to handle the books) but he’s not just intelligent business-wise. Dean knows for a fact that Castiel can speak three languages and reads a book every week. He’s told Dean that he wants to travel to different countries, see the world, experience new cultures. Dean thinks he’s incredible.

So yeah, asking a genius to go on a date with a mechanic who’s never left his home town is a little nerve-wracking.

Suddenly, Gabe drops into the chair next to him.

“Dean,” he nods, business-like.

“Gabriel,” Dean says warily.

“I’ve come on behalf of my socially awkward little brother,” Gabe says, “to ask what a man-about-town like yourself might be doing tonight.”

Dean sneaks a glance at Castiel, who is meticulously rearranging scones on a plate, completely oblivious to this conversation. 

“Are you sure he’s…” Dean begins, but Gabe cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

“Into you? Head over heels more like.” Gabe fixes him with a stare. “So?”

The words ‘ _of course I’ll go out with him give me a time and place_ ’ are on the tip of Dean’s tongue, but then he stops. Castiel is smart. He reads loads of books, not just dystopians like Dean. He can add whole rows of numbers in his head. He wants to travel. That’s not for Dean. He can’t have that.

“I’m busy tonight,” he hears himself saying, and when Gabe opens his mouth, he interjects, “and the rest of this weekend. And… for the rest of the month probably.”

Gabe’s gaze darkens.

“So all the flirting and the talking and the meeting your brother?” he asks. “Were you just leading him on, or what?”

Dean shrugs with false boredom. He worries for a second that Gabe is going to hit him, but then he just gets up and stalks away. Castiel looks worried for a moment when his older brother stomps into the kitchen, and he catches Dean’s eye across the cafe, tilting his head in a  _what just happened?_  expression.

Dean swallows and looks away. Gabe is right. He’s been leading him on and he needs to stop. Starting right now.

——

Dean doesn’t go back to Heaven’s Brew for a few months. He’s too upset: he doesn’t want to face Gabe’s wrath or see Castiel’s disappointed face. It’s only when he passes the cafe on the way home and sees a ‘HELP WANTED’ sign in the window that he ducks in, brushing snow off his arms.

Castiel is nowhere in sight; Gabe is manning the counter, and his face darkens when he sees Dean.

“Winchester,” he says flatly. “Can I get you something? The heart of my younger brother, served up on a platter, maybe, so you can cut it up a little bit more?”

Dean ignores him. “Are you guys hiring? I thought you and Cas had this place covered.”

“Yeah, we did,” Gabe says. “But Cas is leaving.”

Dean’s brain short circuits for a second. “Leaving?” he stammers.

“He’s going on some European tour to find himself,” Gabriel says, and then after a moment, “That’s a load of shit, actually. He’s running away.”

“From what?” Dean asks, although he feels he knows the answer.

“Who knows?” Gabe shrugs. “The store. Me. You, maybe.”

Dean is silent, contemplating this. Gabe can’t blame him for this; he and Castiel barely know each other, there’s no way Castiel is leaving the country to run around Europe for  a few months just because Dean doesn’t like-him-like-that.

But then again, Dean would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that there’s something about Castiel that got immediately under his skin; even the first day he met, he could feel something thrumming in his veins, blood beating out the phrase,  _it’s you, it’s you, it’s you._

“When?” Dean breathes.

“Day after tomorrow,” Gabriel says, and there’s a clear challenge in his eyes.

“I can’t,” Dean says.

“You’re an idiot,” Gabe tosses back.

“Exactly!” Dean exclaims. “I’m an idiot, and he’s the smartest person in the universe! I don’t know what he sees in me, Gabe! What could I possibly have to offer?”

Gabriel is looking at him with a mixture of pity and disgust.

“Oh, so that’s your decision to make, huh?” he spits. “You know what, Dean? Cas isn’t a four-year-old, okay? He knows what he’s doing. And if he wants you, I’m sure it’s for a perfectly good reason, even if I can’t see it at all.”

Dean turns and is almost to the door when Gabe calls out, “Wait.”

When he turns back around, Gabe looks like he desperately wants to keep something to himself, but ends up blurting out, “He’s working tomorrow night. Alone. If you want to talk to him before he leaves, you could do it then.”

Dean doesn’t answer, but as he walks home, the cold biting at his cheeks and nose, he feels a warmth curling in his stomach and knows what he has to do.

——

Castiel is clearly almost finished closing the cafe when Dean knocks on the door, a brown bag clutched in his fist.

“We’re closed,” Castiel calls, but Dean knocks again until Castiel looks up, and their eyes meet through the frosted window.

Castiel’s lips form the word  _Dean_  and he hurries to unlock the door, ushering Dean inside. Dean brushes snow from his hair and gives Castiel a sheepish grin.

“Dean, what are you doing here?” Castiel asks, his eyes wide and confused, and Dean feels his heartbeat pick up.

“I, uh… ran into Gabriel yesterday,” he says. “He told me you were leaving.”

Castiel’s face closes off, just a little bit, and he says, “Yes. I’m assuming you’re here on his behalf to talk me out of it?”

Dean swallows and shakes his head, then hands Castiel the brown paper bag.

“Actually, I got you a going-away present,” he says.

Castiel shoots him a puzzled look as he reaches into the bag.

“I guess in a few days you’ll be drinking fine French wine or whatever,” Dean explains as Castiel pulls out a sweaty bottle of champagne. “But I thought… maybe you and I could share one last bottle of the crappy American stuff before you left.”

“Dean,” Castiel laughs delightedly. “Thank you. I’ll just grab some cups—”

He leans over the counter and grabs a couple coffee cups, and he and Dean sit down at one of the cafe tables. For a few moments, they are silent, as Castiel fusses with the foil and Dean can only watch him.

“So what made you decide to leave?” Dean asks, trying for casual and praying he doesn’t sound as desperately hopeless as he thinks he does.

Castiel shrugs and the movement looks rehearsed. “I always said I was going to see the world,” he says. “Why not now?”

“But the cafe is doing so well,” Dean says, gesturing to their surroundings. “You’re going to leave Gabe to do it on his own?”

“This place is Gabriel’s far more than it’s mine,” Castiel says, still trying desperately to get all the foil off the champagne bottle’s neck. “I am easily replaced.”

“No, you’re not,” Dean says quietly.

Castiel looks at him, and there’s a mixture of anger and confusion warring his eyes, but when he looks back at the champagne he laughs.

“These things are well reinforced,” he says, twisting at the little metal springs. “So many steps—”

“Cas—”

“Where have you been for the past couple months, Dean?” Castiel asks, and it’s clear from his tone the anger has won out.

Dean flushes. “I, um…”

“I thought something might have happened to you,” Castiel says, his tone casual but with something deeper humming underneath. “That maybe you were sick, or had been in some kind of accident. I thought maybe I should try to find your brother…” Castiel’s eyes flash. “But then Gabe told me he saw you walking down the street a few weeks ago, and I didn’t— I couldn’t think of what I had done to drive you away—”

“Cas, you didn’t do anything,” Dean says, reaching for his hand, but Castiel immediately starts back up on the champagne bottle again.

“I must have,” Castiel mutters. “Or else you wouldn’t have— damn it, how do you open these things?”

“Cas, forget about the champagne!” Dean says, leaning over the table to yank the bottle from Castiel’s fingers.

Castiel gapes at him. “You brought it, Dean, I was just trying to—”

“Stay,” Dean says. “Please.”

Castiel’s eyes draw storm clouds; his jaw sets into a firm line.

“Why?” he asks defiantly.

“Because,” Dean says helplessly. “Because… of the store. Gabriel can’t do it without you, you’re not replaceable—”

“Dean, what are you trying to say—”

“And if you leave… I don’t know when I’m going to see you again. It could be months, or years, or— or never…”

“Dean,  _what are you trying to say?”_

“I’m trying to say that nobody makes my coffee better than you!” Dean shouts, standing suddenly. “I hate when other people make my coffee, but you make it perfectly, and you can’t just walk into my life and make me the perfect cup of coffee and then  _leave,_ it just isn’t fair!”

“Dean!” Castiel is on his feet now as well. “I don’t understand why you’re mad!”

Dean draws a shaky hand down his face. “Damn it, Cas,” he says. “I wish I was mad.”

He turns and makes for the exit, intent on getting out of here, because his plan didn’t work, he’s not enough to keep Castiel here, and why would he want to keep Castiel from doing what he really wanted, and he’s almost to the door when Castiel’s hand closes on his shoulder, and he turns, momentum only growing as he seizes Castiel around the waist and presses their lips together.

Castiel lets out a muffled yelp of surprise, but then he responds with a vigor and urgency that makes Dean tighten his fingers on Castiel’s hips. His lips opens under Dean’s and they lick into each other’s mouths, hot and wet, and Dean can’t believe that it took him this long to get here, can’t believe he almost didn’t get to have this.

Dean pulls back first, panting slightly, and Castiel’s eyes are the bluest blue ever, big and confused and happy and terrified.

“I’m not mad,” Dean whispers. “I’m just too late.”

And then he’s pulling himself from Castiel’s embrace, pushing open the door, and heading out into the snow. His teeth chatter in the cold and his fingers grow numb, and the warmth that blossomed in his chest when Castiel was in his arms is quickly icing over.

——

Dean doesn’t go back to Heaven’s Brew for two weeks. He doesn’t want to walk in and see the counter without Castiel, doesn’t want to have to explain to some new person how to make his coffee right when the person who could make it perfectly without instruction is currently off gallivanting in Europe somewhere.

He doesn’t intend on going back, ever, but then he’s walking home from work and there’s a crack of thunder and it’s like the skies just opened and dumped an entire storm right on top of the city, and then Heaven’s Brew is right there and Dean has no other choice.

The bell above the door jangles as he shakes rainwater from his coat and his hair. Gabe takes one look at him, shouts, “Your customer!” and disappears into the back.

Great, just great. He’s going to have to meet the new person, make small talk, explain just how he likes his—

He stops. Castiel is staring at him from behind the counter, eyes blue with something like hope.

“You—” Dean starts.

“Me,” Castiel says.

“You didn’t go,” Dean says.

Castiel shakes his head, and then moves to the machine. “Your usual?”

He makes the coffee, just the way Dean likes it, with the perfect amount of everything, and Dean can only stare at him. Castiel is smiling to himself like this is any other day, like he didn’t claim to be going off on some big European adventure and then  _not go_ , because… because why? Because of Dean?

“Finished,” Castiel says, but instead of passing it over the counter, he comes around to the front of the store and hands Dean his coffee.

Dean only has eyes for Castiel.

“You didn’t go,” he repeats, and then mentally kicks himself for sounding like a repetitive idiot. “Why?”

Castiel looks at him, and the answer is clear in his eyes, and he fists two hands in the front of Dean’s shirt and pulls him into a kiss.

Dean fumbles, setting his coffee down on a table so he can wrap both his arms around Castiel and he kisses him like the rain outside, heavy and loud, like a flood, and he feels like he’s drowning in Castiel, who smells like coffee but tastes like something different, something completely unique.

“Thank god,” comes Gabriel’s voice from the counter. “If that whole ridiculous saga didn’t have a happy ending I might have had to take matters into my own hands.”

“You did take matters into your own hands,” Dean says, arms still full of Castiel.

Gabriel shrugs and retreats into the back again. Dean kisses Castiel once, twice more.

“I have the rest of my life to go to Europe,” Castiel says. “And maybe next time I decide to go, you’ll come with me.”

“Sounds good,” Dean smiles, and leans in to kiss him again.

And sure, Castiel reads a lot of books, and he knows three different languages, but Dean can take apart a car’s engine and put it back together blindfolded, and this just means they’ll have a lot to talk about, and Dean really needs to call Sam and tell him the news and maybe they could all go out to eat or something, and he wants to make all these plans even though he has no clue whether this will lead anywhere, except for the steady pump of his heart,  _it’s you, it’s you, it’s you,_  telling him that yeah, this will lead everywhere, and it’s all only just begun.

**Author's Note:**

> If you know musical theatre, you might guess that I totally got this idea from the song Champagne from "In The Heights" and the second-to-last scene is pretty much verbatim from the show :)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
